


Chaos is a Color I Wear Well (and it looks mighty good on you)

by anna_sun



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Internalized Homophobia, John just cant handle his gayness, M/M, and it hurts Alex, thats it, thats the fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-15 05:18:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8043985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anna_sun/pseuds/anna_sun
Summary: ''I got a girlfriend,'' comes out of John Laurens' mouth. He's trying to make it sound like the word girlfriend belongs on his lips. Yesterday Alexander would have wanted to kiss the profanity off, but right now all he finds himself doing is staring, staring and staring.





	Chaos is a Color I Wear Well (and it looks mighty good on you)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello hello helloooo.  
> No trigger warnings really apply here, just be aware that it's centered around a really, really sad Alexander.
> 
> Hope y'all enjoy.

''I got a girlfriend,'' comes out of John Laurens' mouth. He's trying to make it sound like the word girlfriend belongs on his lips. Yesterday Alexander would have wanted to kiss the profanity off, but right now all he finds himself doing is staring, staring and staring. 

''What?'' is what he settles on saying. Maybe if he pretends he didn't hear correctly John will take it back, laugh it off as a bad joke. But he doesn't. John stares at him with anger dwelling in his gaze as he spits out his name. 

''This is hard enough as it is, why do you always have to make things worse?'' he adds, and Alexander can't suppress the bitter laugh that escapes his mouth. They were always good at this, so good that it's now on the edge of being pathetic. 

Alexander's tired. His only answer is ''Okay, you got a girlfriend'', and he could say so much more, but he doesn't. For once he truly feels the words aren't worth it. If John can pretend he loves his girlfriend, Alexander can pretend he doesn't care. That's perfectly fine.

''Okay'', he repeats, more to himself than to John. ''Okay.'' 

~

Alexander's dirty white ceiling grows faces and every single night they yell at him without restraint. Or maybe he's the one yelling. He doesn't know. 

Aaron, his roommate, bless his soul, doesn't say anything about the heavy bags under his eyes. 

Though when he learns the good news, his gaze on Alexander changes, switches from concern to pity. 

~

Everybody ends up loving her: Gilbert, Hercules, and even Aaron. They all smile sweetly and offer her drinks, she's shy and she blushes every single time any of them so much as look at her. She's short, though she has great thighs on her, a beautiful body, Alexander cares to admit. She even seems to fit perfectly in the crook of John's armpit. He distantly wonders if John still uses the same deodorant. It's unfair, it really fucking is.

''But what was most amusing," she continues a story Alex hadn't been listening to, with a sudden, good-natured laugh, "was that we couldn't figure out how exactly to turn the damn thing off. So we just sucked it up until my dad came back home.'' 

She smiles as Gil and Hercules laugh, Aaron even hiding the edge of a smile behind his drink. John beams like he's proud, letting an arm rest on the back of her shoulders before he kisses the top of her head. It's awfully sweet, and Alex wonders if maybe she's made of glass, or perhaps porcelain. He'd never seen John Laurens treat something with so much care. He either cherishes her or is scared of breaking her, he decides. 

The sweet girl made of glass and the rash boy made of fire. They fit so well together it brings a taste of bile into his mouth.

He excuses himself away so he doesn't end up throwing up on the carpet. 

~

For the next few weeks, alcohol is nice. It's bitter and it burns and it makes him feel warm and it doesn't remind him of the taste of his mouth or the salt on his skin, it doesn't bring back memories of shots and tangled tongues and it doesn't, it doesn't-

It does.

He muffles his cries into his pillow a lot.  

~

''You need to get your shit together, Alex. She's worried. She doesn't understand why you don't like her, and we both know damn well she didn't do anything wrong. It's not fair.'' 

John is talking and he's talking a lot. Alexander realizes then that he doesn't even remotely want to be in the same space as John, doesn't want to hear what he has to say, not when they're alone, not when he still feels like this. 

''You're right, I shouldn't take it out on her. It's not her fault she's dating a homosexual.'' He says loud enough for John's eyes to widen in horror. Alexander rolls his eyes at the reaction because they are standing outside of Alexander's building in the dead of the night, for fuck's sake. Everybody else is still inside, and Alexander's thankful for the fresh air until John lights up a cigarette. 

''Give me one,'' he mutters, purposely ignoring John's furrowed eyebrows and the crease it creates in between them. 

''I thought you didn't-'' he tries before Alex cuts him off by harshly saying his name. 

It's only then that John grants him a cigarette without making too much fuss about it anymore, though Alex stops him from lighting it for him and snatches the lighter from his hands.

They're silent for a while, the faint buzz of a club still open down the street the only thing keeping Alexander's feet on the ground. There's a moment where the train passes nearby, loud crash of noise slipping through for a couple of minutes. He starts thinking about how that train is the only reason he can even afford the place, would normally laugh once he remembers Aaron's constant complains about it. Alexander never minds the noise, though. It reminds him he's _here_.

It's then that he busies his gaze by inspecting the burning end of his cigarette, as if it contained all of the answers he needed. _Teach me how to burn and fade away too_ , he thinks.  

He's going crazy. 

''You can't say shit like that again,'' is what John breaks the silence with, and for a second Alexander's confused, but he catches up quick. ''I'm not-''

''Fuck you.'' Alex stops him, knowing what ought to come next. ''Fuck you.'' 

~

It's not like the world ended or the Earth crumbled under his feet, it's not like everything stopped making sense the second John let that ugly word come out of his mouth. It's not.

Because Gilbert shows up uninvited with his brownies, and Aaron recklessly decides to try some, and the world's fine. He's fine again. He laughs with his friends and he rants about the rude lady he came across on the bus and both he and Aaron throw pillows at Gil because he keeps _farting_ and it's absolutely disgusting, and they laugh, and they laugh, and they laugh. 

It's not like the world ended because Alexander still smiles at strangers when they walk by, and some smile back, some even dare say Hello.

It's not like the world ended because he still watches crappy TV Shows and he still works his two jobs on top of his studies, so it's not like he has the _time_  to not be fine anyways. He still lives. 

John may have tore his heart out from his chest but he didn't take his world. 

He didn't. 

~

They celebrate their three months, Gilbert insists on having a little get-together at his place and there's alcohol involved.

It's no wonder Alexander breaks.

She doesn't drink, haven't touched a sip of alcohol in her entire life so far and isn't in a hurry to try it out. Alexander nods and smiles at his feet in disbelief once she says so. 

He stares at John dead in the eyes as he downs the remaining of his first glass of Bacardi. Licks his lips. 

''I'm gonna go call the pizza,'' John says as he exists the living room, taking his girlfriend away with him by the hand. Alexander stares at the back of John's head and doesn't notice Gilbert eyeing him as he swallows the gulp.

''Jésus, Alex, maybe wanna try some Coke along with that?'' He says as he rests two giant bowls of potato chips on the coffee table. ''The party hasn't even started yet!''

  _The party_ , Alexander repeats in his head, the bitterness strong in his thoughts. It isn't an habit to silently mock Gilbert's enthusiast about such things, but the thought is loud before he can even start to feel guilty about it. _He just doesn't know_ , he tells himself. _He's clueless and nobody cares that you're hurting because he was never yours in the first place, John was never yours-_

''Fuck the party,'' he says out loud before he can stop himself, and Gilbert looks at him weird, a strange mix of confusion and concern in his pupils. He's about to ask when John walks back into the living room. The look Gil sends him is an overwhelming _We need to talk_. 

But Gil splatters a smile on his face and Alexander follows his example before he takes out his phone and sits on the couch. 

This is fine. Everything's fine. He's with his friends and they're celebrating John's happiness, and that's good, that's great. It's fine. 

He goes gets himself another drink as Hercules puts on some music. 

And then it's another drink on top of the other.

And another one. 

And-

~

The words hold their own haziness as they splutter out of his mouth, drops of spit flying off his lips along with them. 

''Does he fuck you good?''

The look on her face is priceless, and Alexander wants to feel bad but he sees the innocence in her eyes and finds himself becoming the villain of his own story. 

''Or maybe he doesn't fuck you at all.'' 

''Alex-'' Someone tries to interrupt. Hercules? 

''It would be a miracle if he even manages to hold it up, y'know-'' 

''Alexander, what-'' 

''I guess John was always deep in denial, and maybe your pretty face's enough to convince him, who knows,'' 

''Convince him of what?'' She asks, fear obvious on her tongue. Alexander smiles; she's interested. 

''Ah, so he hasn't fucked you yet.'' She doesn't deny it, and it's wrong but the information settles with the alcohol in his belly. He finds himself feeling warm again. 

John chooses that exact moment to walk into the room. Where had he been? The bathroom? Alex fights the urge to jump at his throat. He feels like he's staring at a stranger. A beautiful, beautiful stranger. 

Fuck. 

''Look at him,'' he tells her, eyeing him up and down as he does so. She's bearing a confused look on her face but she looks nevertheless. ''You're definitely missing out, I mean, fuck, I miss it so-'' 

''Alexander, you're drunk.'' John says, and oh, he's _angry_. 

''Me? Drunk?'' He laughs, practically chokes on his own tongue with it. It's then that the room starts spinning, but he gets up, leaving the remnants of what used to be John's girlfriend on the couch. She looks absolutely _destroyed_. At least she's smart; he didn't have to spell it out. ''You're drunk,'' he adds, because apparently he's a child. 

He sees Gilbert sitting at his previous spot next to her out of the corner of his eye but he can't find it in himself to care.

''Alex, what the fuck?'' Hercules jumps in. Had he been listening the whole time?  

''Fuck off, Herc, this is between me, John and his- his- _girlfriend_.'' The harsh words are amplified by him swinging his bottle of beer around, and maybe some falls on the carpet, he doesn't know. 

''Alex, stop.'' John orders, voice on the edge of being shaky, and suddenly Alex wants to play.  

''Aw, stop what? Don't you love it when I misbehave?'' His smile stretches demonically on his face as he continues. He can barely stand on his two feet but he gradually walks closer to John nevertheless. Let the whole world hear it all. ''Don't you just want to show me you're the one in charge? Show me exactly what you're made of? Oh, yeah, spank me, please,  _daddy,_ hit me,c'mon, c'mon, aren't you John Fucking Laurens-'' 

''Do you have any idea what the fuck you're saying right now?'' John says, beyond pissed. Alexander can see the way his jaw clenches and he can see it far into his eyes, the anger pouring out of him. It's as if it's all he's made of.

Let him feel, he thinks. Let him feel something, anything- 

''Oh yeah, I'm being gay! Shit, our friends are here, right? I completely fucking forgot.'' He looks around, meets Hercules' and Gilbert's gaze, avoids hers. They all have fallen silent long ago. ''Do you think they've figured out we used to fuck all the time yet?'' He yells out. 

That seems to do the trick.

John takes a swing at him right on the side of his face.

There's a long, high pitched scream, another voice yelling something, and it hurts, it hurts so bad he falls on his knees-

''Yeah, that's too real for you, right, you fucked a _man_ , you fucked him good, and you fucking liked it, you liked it so much you hate yourself for it, don't-'' He's practically yelling at this point and the taste of iron slips itself into his mouth. 

''Shut up!'' John screams, goes for the next blow, which harshly hits Alexander straight under the jaw. ''Shut the fuck up Alexander! Just shut up!'' 

Alexander sees fists shaking in front of him, feels hands in the crook of his armpits trying to lift him on his feet, hears a cacophony of noise, smells the blood dripping on his face, and then it's darkness. 

All he sees is darkness. 

~ 

There's a broken nose and there's the distinct smell of Hercules' apartment, the welcoming, warm hint of what a home should smell like. Alex doesn't quite get that at his place. 

''Bathroom,'' Hercules mentions, voice low and rough around the edges, the word being the first thing he's said to him since it all happened. ''I need to clean you up.'' 

Alexander had been hoping for a spot on the couch and a night of rest, but he groans, tries to nod and show that he understands. He doesn't really have any say in the matter at this point anyways. 

Hercules acts as a stable, moving brick wall for Alexander to hold on to as they walk their way to the small bathroom, while he feels like he might fall into oblivion again with every step he takes. Hercules lives alone and it shows in the over all small size of the apartment, and though Alex never minded before, the walls of the hallway leading to the bathroom are so narrow it's as if they're closing in on them. When his head starts spinning, Alex feels the nausea coming up. He tries to ignore it, but then it's unbearable.

He stumbles, stops walking and closes his eyes, trying to hold it in. The look on his face must be fairly obvious, because Alex feels Hercules' body growing stiff next to him before he says, ''Alexander, are you-''

He throws up.  

He manages, God knows how, to somewhat bend over so the vomit doesn't end up entirely on himself. The movement brings a rush to his head and he groans, starts crying as soon as the entire content of his stomach finds itself on the floor before him. The sobs screeching out of him are ugly and are making the pain of his face even less bearable as he fucking _drools_  all over his chest.

It's absolutely disgusting.

''Fuck,'' Hercules says, a heavy sigh slipping off his lips. _He has every right to be angry with me_ , Alexander thinks, tears still falling off his face though not so loudly now, and yet all Hercules does is repeat the word _Okay_ out loud, over and over and over again. They eventually step over the mess Alex made and finally enter the bathroom.

''I'm sorry, I'll-'' he tries, though his whole face feels swollen at this point and he's not even sure Hercules can understand what he's trying to say. The other man shushes him up, says that it's okay, before allowing him to sit on the edge of the bathtub.

And then he goes to work.  

 ''You know, I'd never passed out before,'' Alexander tries after a while of silence, not necessarily in a hope to lighten the mood, but simply to make small talk. Hercules doesn't laugh; doesn't even spare him a look. He keeps his gaze fixed on the cloth he's currently getting wet in the sink. 

''Can you apply that to your face and wait for a while?'' Hercules says as he hands him the cloth, completely ignoring the previous sentence. ''I'll go clean up.'' 

All Alexander does is stare at him for a second, trying to read the other man's gaze. It's hard to; Hercules is stiff, and the room is still in some kind of darkness. The only hint of human emotion appearing on Hercules' face is his eyebrows, as they are slightly raised, waiting for Alexander to take the cloth he's handing to him. 

Alexander stops trying and caves. 

''Hercules?'' he asks, wincing at the cold contact of the cloth on his face. 

His friend turns around at the door frame, waiting for Alexander to say what he wants to say before leaving.

''If you're letting me crash here, call Burr.'' He says. ''Please. He can't forget to feed the fish.'' 

Hercules is awfully silent for a second before he calmly nods his head and says, ''Okay, Alexander. I'll call.'' 

There's a slightly exasperated tone in the words he speaks, and it's so rare to witness Hercules on the edge of being annoyed with someone that Alexander figures he should just shut up.

''I'm sorry,'' he still says out loud to no one in particular now, knowing the words hold nothing if no one's even there to hear them. ''I'm sorry.''

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pretty sure not many people will catch on to this but, John's girlfriend here is Peggy. Not ever mentioning her name through the whole chapter (and fic) is intentional on my part. 
> 
> Comments and Kudos are always so fucking appreciated!! Please, leave as many as you wish. I will (happily) die.
> 
> Also, things will probably get to an explicit rating along the way. Who knows? Certainly not me.


End file.
